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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22759312">Lurking Shadows</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeless_alice/pseuds/timeless_alice'>timeless_alice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A lot of self loathing, Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:19:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22759312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeless_alice/pseuds/timeless_alice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan knows that people talk about him, and most of the time he can ignore them. But sometimes he can't, and it just reminds him of how truly scared he is.</p><p>And this time Steve being around might make things a little worse before they get better.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lurking Shadows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Byers house, it had been decided, was the best place for Jonathan and Steve to convene. It was less suspicious, Steve insisted, and while Jonathan conceded the point there was a part of him that assumed it was at least a little due to Steve liking Joyce more than his own parents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was where they met on most days after school, with Steve always offering an excuse of going there to study to anyone who raised an eyebrow, when others didn't call and they didn't have anywhere else to go. And they actually did study together, sometimes, though on those occasions Nancy had a tendency to tag along just to keep them in line. Usually it was just the two of them, sequestered away in Jonathan's room as to not otherwise disrupt the flow of the household. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was after school on a quiet Friday afternoon, with the house empty save for the two of them; Joyce was still at work and would be for some time, while Will had gone straight to Mike's house for a D&amp;D session. Despite this, the two found their typical refuge in Jonathan's room, if only because of familiarity. Steve sat, cross legged, on Jonathan's bed with his back pressed against the headboard, and Jonathan lay down with his head in Steve's lap. Steve, as he often did, ran his fingers through Jonathan's bangs, brushing them aside and doing what little he could to "style" them without use of product; he had tried, on many occasions, to get Jonathan to let him properly style it. Jonathan was close to folding, but for the time being he preferred watching Steve come up with reasons and bargaining chips for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan did not speak, only stared at the ceiling as Steve's fingers ghosted along his skin in his periphery, with his hands folded on his stomach that rose and fell with every deep, controlled breath. Nerves stretched taut enough to snap, chest heavy and tight to the point where it felt like no matter what he did, his lungs would "never be full. Thoughts about nothing and everything at once twisted in his head, stumbling over each other in a cacophony of </span>
  <em>
    <span>nonsense</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he could hardly make heads or tails of, that only served to caused him to tense up even more, until muscles ached with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath, trying to quiet the angry voices that were always there, laying in wait in the corners of his mind and for their chances to claw their way to the light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're being awfully quiet," Steve said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words did not so much snap Jonathan from his thoughts, because in those moments it was as if he was aware of every inch of himself and his surroundings, but it did give him a focal point to latch onto. He tilted his head back to be able to meet Steve's gaze, and his eyes narrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Quieter than usual," Steve amended with the edge of a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonthan shrugged, pressing down against everything that swelled at the base of his throat like he always had before, but said nothing. His attention turned away before he could see Steve's expression shift. A palm came to rest on his cheek, warm against his skin that he almost leaned into; would have, even, if he wasn't so stuck in the maelstrom of his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You okay?" Jonathan wasn't sure he'd ever get used to Steve's voice being so soft in its concern, the mild tease having bled out into the open air where it evaporated into nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm fine," he replied, unclasping his hands to stretch fingers toward the ceiling, brushing Steve aside in the process. It did little to relieve the tension that set in his shoulders. For a moment, he considered reaching out to touch Steve's face, but pushed the notion aside when he imagined fingers finding torn skin and blood from a fight he'd been too angry to step away from. Hands hesitated, then slowly curled as he lowered them to rest on his hips, breath hitching in his throat with a soft gasp he hoped Steve hadn't noticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve made a soft clicking sound, as he considered Jonathan's words and probably tossed them aside as the obvious lie they were, but he said nothing, just went back to running his fingers through Jonathan's fringe. And Jonathan remained silent, eyes looking at nothing in particular above him as Steve moved in his periphery. Growing tenser every moment as emotions impossible to pin down roiled in his chest; he was so used to falling into these moods and being able to sift through and compartmentalize on his own terms. It wasn't like people who weren't his family interacted with him enough to notice, anyway, and he had long since figured how to evade the worried eye of his mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a huff, Jonathan rolled out of Steve's lap to sit on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees as one leg bounced on the ball of his foot. His shoulders hunched and his head ducked low, as he always did, not looking at Steve even as he felt the mattress shift beneath him as Steve moved. He knew without seeing that hands reached out to touch him, but never made contact. And he was thankful for that, in some small pitiful way that burned just like everything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry," Jonathan said, finally sending a glance Steve's way, the smile as easy to force as breathing was, despite everything. Still, he knew it wasn't wholly convincing, a thin and watery thing that faltered only added to the fact he couldn't meet Steve's eye. "Today's probably not the best for hanging out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile fell altogether and he turned to biting his lip, staring at the floor. Steve finally made contact with his shoulder and though the touch was delicate and gentle, Jonathan flinched and the touch withdrew. With that the embarrassment came, hot and radiating from that point of contact until it found every inch of Jonathan to fill, and he pressed his face to his hands. To save face, what little he could, he took a deep breath as he ran fingers through his hair and let it out in a huff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is this because people at school are talking about...?" Steve gestured at his face, gesturing at the injuries that had healed to the point of invisibility, and the tension in Jonathan wound to the point of impossibility. When Jonathan gave no response, Steve said, "Carol and Tommy are assholes, you should just ignore them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan closed his eyes, struggling to breathe against the tightness in his throat. "I </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> ignore them," he finally said, and it came out a little more aggressively than he intended. But that was the problem, though. For years he ignored them, for almost all of his life from the moment he realized it was happening: all the uneasy glances and all the rumors spoken in whispers just loud enough for him to hear because him knowing was a vital element to the whole game.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he was good at it. Good at building up barriers that only served to make the rumors worse. The quiet shy kid turned into the weird creep turned into the logical conclusion of loner with potential for violence. And that crept under his skin to take root there, pulling at thoughts that were always there, had always been there finally given weight with the existence of concrete action. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey," Steve said. Still so soft and gentle and nothing that Jonathan deserved. "Listen. Everyone knows I deserved to get my ass kicked." The sound of a smile crept in, though it did little to lighten Jonathan's mood. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> know I deserved to get my ass kicked."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But that's not the problem," Jonathan said, still harsh and teetering on the very edge of anger even though it wasn't directed at Steve. He shifted so he was facing Steve, but he kept his gaze angled downward because he couldn't bring himself to look him in the eye. He cleared his throat, trying to still the shaking that had settled into his hands, and glanced up at Steve's face to see the look of confused concern etched into his features. "I ignore them until I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can't</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and now everyone has something I actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" His breath rattled in his throat and tears burned in his eyes. He swiped at them with the heel of his palm before anything could fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Worst of all it was a reminder that he hadn't been able to stop himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Underneath the lifetime of isolation had been almost a lifetime of his </span>
  <em>
    <span>father</span>
  </em>
  <span>, always goading him and trying to get him to man up, something he had fought so hard to stand strong again. Up until the moment he couldn't. Up until the moment the challenge had become too much and not only had he struck back, he'd struck back hard. And with that came the lingering fear that had always been there, because how could it not? You live long enough with someone trying to mold who you are and there are certain ideas and fears that are sure to stick around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry," he muttered again. Tried to pull himself from the edge of that particular abyss, forcing yet another faltering smile. It was even less convincing than the first one. "I just wish people would drop it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a long moment of silence, enough for him to get swept up the complicated mess that swelled in his chest and threatened to pull him under, to drown in the waiting inky black. He had to fight to keep his breathing even.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know you can tell me what's wrong," Steve said, finally, after that eternity. "Unless fighting a monster together doesn't count for anything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite everything, Jonathan let out a bark of a laugh, a sharp and humorless thing. He gave his head a shake, mouth pulling into a firm line as he weighed the pros and cons of saying anything at all; he was sure that if he'd said he didn't want to talk about it, Steve would drop the thread for the time being. But then would come the inevitability of that thread being picked at again, because this sort of thing doesn't just get brushed under the rug to be ignored forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You sure you want to know?" The words were strained under the thin veneer of airy humor he tried to inject into the words. "I have a lot of baggage."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve gently bumped his knuckles against Jonathan's arm and Jonathan swayed with it, narrowing his eyes with a soft huff directed back at Steve. It wasn't an aggressive thing, just exasperated in the way that friends - something more than friends - could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to." There it was. "But I can handle baggage."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan looked up at him for the briefest of moments, and then turned back to looking at the floor, watching fingers as they clenched and unclenched. Chest heaved with every breath, and before he had time to carefully examine the words and store them away to not be spoken about, again and again ad nauseam, he whispered, "I'm scared I'm going to turn into my dad." He tried to fill his lungs to no avail, beginning to teeter on hyperventilation, airways closing as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words were met with silence, and he couldn't look at Steve, didn't dare look to see what kind of expression he wore. He let out a soft hiccuped cry, fingers curling in his hair at the base of his skull to pull downward towards his knees. It was a truth he fought hard to ignore, tried to keep under lock and key in the furthest, darkest corners of his mind until he couldn't ignore it anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Like one day I'm going to wake up, and I'm gonna look in the mirror and-" Something in him was threatening to shatter, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight until it hurt, but something else had given away and he wasn't sure he could stop talking. "And I'm going to see my dad looking back at me." And there were times, on the worst days, where he'd been able to see echoes. Inherited features that stuck out strongest in those moments of pulsing fear that would haunt him for the rest of the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears burned hot against his cheeks as they fell and he made no effort to brush them away, made no effort in hiding his feelings from Steve, as if he wasn't there at all. He knew on some practical level, in that corner of his mind that managed to cling to rational thought as everything else crumbled away to dust and debris, that he was shaking. And that Steve probably had no idea how to react. But the larger part of him so suddenly free from pretending everything was okay didn't have the capacity to consider it.</span>
</p><p><span>"I try so hard," he whispered, more to himself than to Steve. "But I still managed to fuck it up and </span><em><span>now everyone</span></em> <em><span>knows it.</span></em><span>" Voice trembled and cracked as he added, louder and filled with self directed fury, "Jesus I couldn't even keep Will safe." </span></p><p>
  <span>The mattress shifted under him and without a word spoken there were arms wrapping around him, hooking under arms and rib cage until Steve was awkwardly pressed against his back. Heavy and grounding and it just made Jonathan cry harder, like the dam finally gave way. He tried to swallow the keens and whimpers but they pressed against his throat to become high, strained sounds that were even more pathetic. It was embarrassing and he hated every inch of himself for it, on top of everything else, because why couldn't he just get himself under control, like he had every time before. But Steve didn't move, only holding him ever tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey." Steve's voice came to him through miles and years of fog. "Hey, it's okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan leaned into him, pulling himself up just enough so that he could rest his head against Steve's chest. In turn, Steve adjusted so that while one arm remained wrapped around him, his other hand was free to reach up and curl through Jonathan's hair in gentle, rhythmic strokes; easy and loving and without a hint of any possible awkwardness about the whole situation. And there was nothing more said between them. No attempt from Steve to coax more out of Jonathan, nor any verbal comfort to ears that weren't going to - weren't able to - listen anyway, and no more long kept, festering secrets from Jonathan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed that way for what felt like hours to Jonathan, even though it was likely only a few minutes before tears subsided into soft sniffling and watery, hitching breaths. He didn't move from his position, curled against Steve as post-crying exhaustion settled into his bones to mingle with what remained of all that convoluted bullshit that would inevitably resurface as it always did. And when the last of the shaking had faded into nothing he pulled away from Steve who offered little resistance, his hand shifting to rest on Jonathan's knee. Jonathan wiped at his eyes and nose, his face feeling wet and the skin around his eyes horribly tight, and he cleared his throat before looking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve watched him, mouth in a deep frown and concern still dominating his expression. Jonathan hunched his shoulders and offered that familiar forced smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"S-Sorry," he said, wavering softly at the edges. He tried again, forcing his voice to be steadier, "Sorry. I've never- uhm. I've never told anyone that before." And he certainly had never cried like that before in front of anyone who wasn't family; not that he'd ever really had the opportunity to, but the embarrassment still made its presence known with heat pulsing under the skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve's eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted to the side, mouth working for a moment before he said, "Not even your mom?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a shake of his head, Jonathan curled in on himself a little more. "No. Never." A shuddering sigh escaped his lips, turning towards his door and the rest of the house, guilt dripping from the sound as it took root in him. He went on, the words stumbling over themselves as his mind raced. "She has so much going on already with Will and I couldn't-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could go on and trip over something that would lead to yet another spiral, Steve reached out to cup his face and slowly, gently, guided him until the two were face to face again. The contact alone was enough to slow the roaring in his head and while he still couldn't make himself look Steve in the eye, Jonathan could nonetheless see the faint ghost of a smile on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think," he said, running the pad of his thumb across Jonathan's cheek to wipe away the excess moisture that clung there and Jonathan allowed himself to lean into his palm. "I think your mom is probably better equipped to talk to you about this than I am." The smile grew stronger, bolder with the smallest show of teeth. "If you want my opinion - and you should, because I'm right about a lot of things - you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. What happened to Will isn't your fault, and having seen the monster my damn self I don't think there's anything you could have done."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But if I was home-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No. Jonathan. We barely made a dent in it when it was three-on-one." He spoke with obvious exasperation and it stung, a little bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan's shoulders slumped, not in his typical way when he wanted to seem smaller, but more in defeat. Not that he really believed what Steve was saying, but he was too exhausted on an emotional level to argue. And there was, he knew, truth to the statement about the three of them in a fight against an otherworldly monster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the face of his silence Steve went on, "And the fight? </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> pushed buttons I shouldn't have, and I got my ass kicked for it." He leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. His expression serious once again. "Jonathan. I'm really, really sorry about it. I didn't know about." He shrugged with apparent guilt. "About all that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay," Jonathan said. "Not many people do- not like I have friends to talk to about it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Have?" Steve scoffed playfully, his attempt to steer the conversation into brighter territory. "What's with the present tense. You have me and Nancy now, and you don't need anyone else." He pressed a quick kiss to Jonathan's nose, eliciting a soft huff of a laugh that wasn't quite on steady ground yet. His hands fell from Jonathan's face and Jonathan missed the warmth there, so he took hold of them and held fast. "And I'll shut down any stupid rumor I hear about you, okay? Okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't have to sacrifice your social standing for me," Jonathan said. Joked, even, mouth quirking into something lopsided and playful. If still a little unstable, but it was getting there. "But if you're offering."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"'Course I'm offering," Steve said. "I'm done hanging out with jackasses, seriously."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something crept through Jonathan's veins at that, something unknowable pulsing with every heartbeat and bringing cool relief through burning systems. When he spoke, his voice was strong and steady. "Thanks."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to say that Steve broke into a glowing beam at that, but his expression brightened in an infectious way. He shifted, just enough so that fingers could be laced through Jonathan's. It was comfortable, Jonathan thought. Not quite familiar, teetering on the edge of right, though he couldn't know for certain. It wasn't like he had any romantic entanglements before, nor really had the basis for what one should be. But in that moment, it felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now," Steve went on, "instead of hanging out here why don't we swing by the Wheelers' place and grab Nancy. Then we can screw around for a few hours, or something." Jonathan eyed him for a moment, an eyebrow raised with an obvious question and Steve added, a little sheepishly, "We don't have to tell her about this. She'll probably figure out something's wrong, because it's kind of obvious, but after that it's all up to you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan nodded and said with a ghost of a tease, "I think I'm done for the day."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I thought so." Steve let go of his hand and gave him a light shove as he got to his feet. He considered Jonathan for a moment. "I really think you should talk to your mom about this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was defeat in Jonathan's sigh, because he was right. He knew Steve was right. "I'll work on it." When he would manage to gather the courage, he had no idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was possible he imagined the doubt flickering in Steve's eyes, born from his own uncertainties, but Steve never made a comment on it either way. It was best not to continue down that road at the moment, anyway. Instead he just shrugged with a slight nod, tucking one hand into a pocket while giving the other a wave. "All right. You should probably wash your face or something so you don't look so much like a kicked puppy, and I'll go start the car."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan gave him a dramatic frown, eyebrows knitting together and eyes narrowing as he stood. "I think I'll be fine," he said. In part because he knew that he wouldn't be able to look himself in the mirror, where he could see all those echoes with perfect clarity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a certain awareness that came from a lifetime of being on the outside looking in, and he knew that Steve was examining him. And then he gave another shrug. "Suit yourself. By the way, you should probably tell your mom you're heading out, so she doesn't freak out about you not being home."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that the two departed the Byers household for Nancy's, Jonathan taking a moment to leave a note for Joyce informing her of his whereabouts that he left on the kitchen table. Their conversation was steered with great care towards lighter topics, so that they would arrive in somewhat lighter spirits, and with it came the return of the veneer of normalcy. Jonathan's chest still ached and his head still thundered with truths long since realized, but it was easier to tuck them aside, if only for the moment and if only by a few degrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The rumors would always be there, as would the doubts and fears that always wanted to crawl their way to the forefront of his thoughts and make their home there until there was nothing left. But there in the comfort of idle chatter that had always seemed so far out of his reach, it was easier to realize that there were people there for him. Friends outside of family, now. And that was something he would grab with both hands in those moments of clarity; it wouldn't save him from drowning, but it was more than he had before. And that was worth something.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>eventually i'll write a sequel where jonathan talks to his mom</p><p>anyway i love jonathan a lot he reminds me a bit of how i was when i was a teenager</p><p>come find me on tumblr at timelessmulder</p></blockquote></div></div>
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